My TeamMate is Trying to Kill Me
by Yardorzz
Summary: Basically, Harry and Malfoy are on the England Quidditch Team, Malfoy tries to kill Harry, yadayadayada, blahdeblahdeblah, just read the stupid story.
1. England's First Match

My Team Mate Is Trying to Kill Me!  
Chapter 1  
  
It was a brilliant day for Quidditch. The sun was shining and there wasn't a grey cloud. The stand was full to bursting with people and it was England's new seeker's, Harry Potter, first game as an international player.  
  
He sat in the changing room pulling on his white Quidditch robes. It was a lot different to the scarlet Gryffindor ones he had worn in previous years.  
  
England's captain and keeper strode in. "Hey Harry! Nervous?"  
  
Harry couldn't help but smile. With someone like Oliver Wood as his captain and keeper it was almost as good as being back at Hogwarts.  
  
Oliver sat down beside his teammate from past years and now once again. " It's a shame that Ron wasn't picked for the team," he said slowly. "I heard he took my place when I left and he wasn't bad either." Harry nodded. It was a Weasley free team. Fred and George were too busy with the joke shop to play beaters.  
  
"They're here." Harry looked at Oliver uncertainly. " Hermione too." Harry was now looking at Oliver as if he was crazy. " Well.Bill, Charlie, Percy and Mr Weasley had to go to work but the others are here." Harry peered out of the window in the dressing room to the pitch. Scanning around the stands, he soon found the vivid Weasley hair in the crowd. Harry smiled again; it looked like the stand was on fire.  
  
The rest of the team came through the door. The three chasers immediately started combing their hair. It was three girls, again like Harry's Quidditch team at school. Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were originally Gryffindor chasers, but the third was Cho Chang who smiled and waved at Harry who began straightening his shin pads.  
  
The two beaters then walked in. One was Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player that Harry had met in his latter years at Hogwarts. The other, Harry fixed with a menacing glare. He returned one.  
  
"Got your bed booked in St Mungo's, Potter?"  
  
"Only if you want us to lose the game, Malfoy."  
  
Draco Malfoy was swinging his beater's bat in his long fingers. The smirk had disappeared from his face. Harry was right. If Malfoy knocked Harry off his broom, they would have to forfeit the match, and Malfoy hated to lose at Quidditch. But how else was he to get at his nemesis?  
  
Malfoy disapparated. Harry went into the player's lounge before he got back. Why would he want to look at a naked Malfoy?  
  
As the other players got changed they too took themselves to the lounge. Five minutes passed and with minutes to the game, they went to get their broomsticks.  
  
Malfoy was back and changed. He was shutting his locker and went to get his Nimbus 2001 like everyone else.  
  
Harry mounted his pride and joy Firebolt, waiting for the doors to open.  
  
A whistle blew somewhere and the doors creaked open. The team took off and Ludo Bagman's voice was jabbering excitedly down his magnified wand.  
  
"And it's England with Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Chang, Smith, Malfoy aaaaaaaaand Potter!"  
  
Hermione and the Weasleys were cheering madly at the sound of Harry's name. Harry flew past and waved to them.  
  
"And here comes Spain! Spain with Luis, Enrique, Figo, Raoul, Rolando, Ig.um.can't pronounce your name aaaaaaaaand Ronaldo!"  
  
The Spaniards were dressed in orange and stood out so vividly from the English players, there was a bit of jeering in the stands.  
  
"And our referee, Zoë Hooch!"  
  
Madam Hooch put down the crate he was holding and kicked it open. Snitch and bludgers flew out and Madam Hooch threw the quaffle into the air and rose into it herself.  
  
Harry squinted about for the snitch in the sunlight. Suddenly a bludger smashed into the side of his head.  
  
Dazed, Harry heard sneering. He turned his aching head to Malfoy practically laughing his own head off.  
  
"Sooo sorry, team mate." He laughed again. "I was aiming for the Spaniard over there!"  
  
So that was his plan. To aim warning shots at him. Not hard enough to knock him off his broomstick, but hard enough to hurt.  
  
Harry zoomed to the other side of the pitch. He'd just have to play hard to get then, wouldn't he.?  
  
"England scoreeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
Harry punched his fist to the air. "YES!" and then had to dodge another bludger sent by Malfoy.  
  
Harry's heart leapt. He'd seen the snitch! He grasped his Firebolt handle tightly and sped at amazing speed towards it.  
  
"England score again!!!!!!!!!! 20-0 to England!!! Hang on a minute! Potter's seen the snitch!"  
  
Three quarters of the crowd were behind the English 18 year old. Harry was gaining.but so was Ronaldo, the Spanish seeker.  
  
Harry's fingers closed around the golden ball and he felt satisfaction course through his body at the sight of Ronaldo's surprised expression.  
  
The stands erupted with cheering. But no one was cheering harder than the Weasleys.  
  
Malfoy was smirking. His chance had come. They would still win, even if the little hero fell off his broom. And if he didn't, the planning would be a waste, not to mention the money.  
  
He quickly found a bludger and batted it hard towards Harry. He wasn't disappointed; it hit Harry right in the fore head.  
  
Harry's head was full of cheer when the bludger hit him. It knocked him right off his broomstick. If that hadn't knocked him out, the ground certainly would; he fell fifty feet onto hard, grassy soil.  
  
He came round with a numb feeling in his body and a piercing pain in his shoulder. He couldn't open his eyes or move his limbs.  
  
As some of the feeling returned he felt a cool, soothing hand at his head. He opened his eyes and saw vivid hair surrounding him. Then he realised who the hand belonged to.  
  
"Mrs Weasley?"  
  
The Weasleys and Hermione were at his side with looks of worry and concern on their faces.  
  
Mrs Weasley spoke first. "Harry, thank goodness you've come round! We were so worried!"  
  
Even more people began to gather round. Ludo Bagman, Madam Hooch and even Rita Skeeter. "Hmmmm.The Boy Who Lived suffers Near Death Experience?" she suggested.  
  
"How long have I." Harry began.  
  
"Fifteen minutes," said Hermione  
  
Harry swallowed. He'd been out cold fifteen minutes! "Everyone thought you'd died," said Ron looking pale. "Are you sure you're alright?" Both Mrs Weasley and Hermione gave Ron don't-be-so-stupid looks and then their eyes flicked to Harry's shoulder for a second before resuming on his face.  
  
Harry dared look at his shoulder. It was now obvious why people only took a glimpse. He nearly passed out again.  
  
The broomstick handle had embedded itself in the place where Harry's arm met his torso. The blood was staining his white robes. Harry read FIREBO on the handle before it sunk into his skin. Bits of broomstick littered the floor around him. Mrs Weasley must have seen the horror on his face, because she spoke some comforting words.  
  
"The mediwizards will be here soon to look at that."  
  
How could Harry tell her that the look of horror was because of his broomstick? He merely nodded.  
  
A pale face surrounded by blonde locks of hair appeared above the Weasleys. Unlike them of course, it hadn't a trace of sympathy or concern. It was glee.  
  
"You know," said Malfoy. "Broomsticks are easy to replace. Shoulders are harder."  
  
At the look on Draco's face, Harry knew it was he who fired the bludger at him.  
  
"You son of a Crup!" shouted Harry. He made an effort to stand up and pound Malfoy to mush but Mrs Weasley made him lie down again ("You don't want to damage yourself even more!") so Harry was forced to put his head back down on the ground.  
  
The mediwizards soon arrived. They were stalled a bit by Mrs Weasley's ranting that they should have been here sooner, ("I suppose even if a wizard was bleeding to death you would still take half an hour to get there!")  
  
While Mrs Weasley was arguing with the now flustered mediwizard, it gave Harry time to talk to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Well, at least we won," said Harry. "Yeah, I guess," replied Ron. "My plan worked like, well, a charm," sneered Malfoy. Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "You tampered with my broomstick?" "No." "What do you mean," said Ron menacingly.  
  
So Draco told them. He told them about disapparating to Diagon Alley and buying a Firebolt. He told them about charming it full of light but strong, pointed metal. And sure enough, when Mrs Weasley had no more voice in her, and the handle was removed, there was a metal point on the end. ("So it would stick into Potter more easily.")  
  
When Harry was finally healed and pronounced satisfactory, he went and changed.  
  
He went to talk to Oliver to have Draco removed from the team.  
  
"Sorry Harry, no can do."  
  
"But, Oliver, he tried to kill me!" 


	2. He's trying to Kill Me!

My Team Mate is Trying to Kill Me!  
Chapter 2  
  
Harry returned to the Burrow with the Weasleys, still fuming about Malfoy and the bludger incident. It turned out that Malfoy had Harry's broom in his locker. ("Why would I want us to lose a game? I mean, a good team mate needs a good broom.")  
  
The Weasleys were sympathetic about it. Mrs Weasley was like she always was. Ron and Hermione always sat next to him, assuring him that the game was good. Fred and George were doing stupid Malfoy impressions.  
  
Mr Weasley came home and hung his cloak on the stand in the kitchen. He looked tired with bags under his eyes and he held a newspaper loosely in his hand. He smiled at the people now eating at the scrubbed wooden table.  
  
" Ah. Harry. Just been reading about you, (He brandished the newspaper.) you might like to read it."  
  
Harry took the paper in his hands. He spotted a headline;  
  
TEAM MATE VS. TEAM MATE  
  
Rita Skeeter  
  
Harry Potter, 18, was grievously injured yesterday by a bludger to the head. The young England player was heard to accuse his teammate, Draco Malfoy, 19, of hitting the bludger. " Why would I hit the seeker?" Malfoy said. "My job as beater is to hit the bludgers towards the opposing team, not a team mate." Malfoy said later; "The bludger must have done something to his head; he seems to think that I want to kill him!" Of course, mediwizards immediately arrived to heal Potter, ("Liars," muttered Mrs Weasley.) but many, like Mr Malfoy, wonder if it's enough. Lucius Malfoy, 45, father of Draco Malfoy is one of them. "Of course, my son wouldn't try to hurt anyone. I'm sure that soon, Potter will be right in the head and accept that my son did not hit that bludger at him. If not, I suggest a week or two at St Mungo's will help." Potter suffered a broken broomstick handle to his shoulder, and while lying on the ground, tried to inflict serious damage to Draco Malfoy. Your reporter witnessed the Quidditch match and Potter's injury. While trying to injure Mr Malfoy, he seemed wild and very unstable. Ludovic Bagman, the commentator, repeats what he saw. "Well, he was lying on the ground for a bit. He tried to hurt Malfoy, was healed and asked Captain Wood to sack Malfoy. I'll bet you he said no." Of course Captain Wood did decline this and Mr Bagman is no longer in debt. Of course, we still all wonder whether Potter should remain on the team, but Wood said that Harry would be, but no further comment.  
  
Harry scrolled down the page. He found three pictures of himself; Catching the snitch, being hit by the bludger and trying to attack Malfoy.  
  
"I know," said Mr Weasley. "It's made a lot of money, that story. Witch Weekly, Daily Prophet." he ticked them off his fingers. " The Quibbler.oh and even the news section of Which Broomstick?."  
  
Harry swallowed. He would once again in his life be looked at as unstable. The whispering as he walked past, the snide comments.he would hate it.  
  
" Hey, Harry! D'you want to play Quidditch in the clearing near here?"  
  
Ron had jerked him back to the real word. He turned around and saw the excited look on Ron's face contrasting with everyone else's looks as if he had said something stupid. Ron started to look crestfallen.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have thought." "No," said Harry quickly. "It's alright. Really. I'll get my Firebolt."  
  
After a game of Quidditch, Harry felt much better than a couple of hours ago. Quidditch seemed to calm him down.  
  
They went up to Ron's bedroom and discussed the match.  
  
"You know," said Ron. "You played really well! I wish I were on the team. And you shouldn't just leave because of one scumbag." " Ron," said Harry. " He tried to kill me."  
  
Ron stopped moving and opened his mouth in horror.  
  
" He. tried to.k-kill you?" "Yes, he wants to be the seeker. Plus he hates me." "But that's no reason to." started Ron but Harry stopped him. " I think he's working for Voldemort."  
  
Harry hadn't spoken that word for over a year now, and Ron looked even more shocked than before. 


	3. Second chance

My Team Mate is Trying to Kill Me!  
Chapter 3  
  
Harry and the England team were in the changing rooms once more; England vs. Australia. Harry kept an eye on his Firebolt this time, to avoid a replay of the last game. It was two weeks on from that day and they were one of the highest in the international table.  
  
"Right," said Wood. " We're facing a team that's better than us and have older, more experienced players. But we'll win today and show them what we can do."  
  
They lined up by the door leading to the pitch. Harry gripped his broom firmly and glared at Malfoy, who was standing at his side.  
  
"You're dead, Potter," he muttered. "Death Eater," whispered Harry. Malfoy's eyes widened in fear before he said coolly "You're in for it now."  
  
They sped onto the pitch with their brooms. The Australians were wearing blue Quidditch robes and were very tanned.  
  
Harry scanned the pitch. The Weasleys were there again. Harry's fear of this match melted away and Ron's voice came into his head. "Malfoy is a scumbag!"  
  
Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game began. Ludo Bagman was commentating again.  
  
"And it's England with the Quaffle. Johnson for England. Oh no hit by a bludger! And it's Australia now. Irwin with the Quaffle. He's pelting up there. Dodges 1. sorry 2 bludgers! He's going to sc. saved by Wood!"  
  
Twenty minutes passed and England scored five times. Harry had caught 1or 2 glances of the snitch, but with worrying about the bludgers sent towards him every few seconds, he hadn't caught it yet.  
  
Malfoy's plan was failing. They had won one match, who cared about this one? He had missed Harry with most of his shots, now it was time for his ultimate payback.  
  
Staring straight into the stupid face of poor poor Ronald Weasley, he batted it towards him. It was fool proof. Either Weasley got hit, or Potter would try and get himself hit to protect Ron. Either way, Malfoy would be happy.  
  
Harry saw the bludger as if in slow motion. Ron's face confronted with fear. He raced towards it, determined to save Ron. He didn't care about pain; this was his best friend, right?  
  
Harry practically threw himself before the bludger. Ron only saw a streak of white colliding with black.  
  
" And it's the Aussie's with the Quaffle. They're going to. What's up with Potter?"  
  
Suddenly everyone noticed Harry. He was only holding on with his legs and his body was practically flopping all over the place. He was slowly descending to the ground.  
  
" And this is Potter's second game, and twice he's been injured."  
  
" He's going to fall!" screamed Hermione. Harry fell, half dazed already, onto the still hard ground.  
  
Harry came round, this time not lying on cold, hard ground. Not surrounded by deafening cheers but on a soft surface, in a quiet place.  
  
' I'm dead,' he thought. He opened his eyes a fraction. Blue. The only colour his eyes would allow him to see. It was the colour of the sky, wasn't it?  
  
But as his eyes grew accustomed to the blue, he saw red and again a soothing hand on his forehead.  
  
"Where am I?" he gasped. " St Mungo's" said a voice. A familiar voice.  
  
The Weasley's were gathered around his bed. Harry lay there, aware about everyone staring at him, as if he were dead.  
  
" Am I dead?" he asked. " No, Harry," said Mrs Weasley. "You are alive, thankfully." " We thought you were though," said Ron. " When you didn't wake up at the stadium. I mean, you've been here for a couple of days."  
  
Harry lifted himself up and put his glasses on. " What happened?" he said. "Harry," said Mrs Weasley. "Don't do anything like that again."  
  
"Do what?" he said. Why were people accusing him of doing something he couldn't even remember doing?  
  
" Risk yourself. You know, for one of us," finished Ron. " I did what?" " You've just suffered a concussion, Harry," said Mrs Weasley. " That's probably why you can't remember. But you took the bludger aiming for Ron."  
  
It was as if Harry's whole head had lit up. He could remember. The bludger. Ron. The hit.  
  
" Malfoy," he said quietly. " Sorry, Harry?" said Mrs Weasley. " Malfoy," he repeated. " He's trying to kill me. He knew that I would try to save Ron. And if I didn't, he would hit Ron instead." "Harry, said Mrs Weasley worriedly. "You're just wrong in the head."  
  
"I'M NOT!!!"  
  
The room went deadly quiet. The other patients were listening and staring at him in fear. One of them whispered something to a healer.  
  
"Mr Potter," said the healer. "I've been asked for you to be moved into a closed ward. You're disturbing the other patients."  
  
"NO," he shouted. " I'M NOT MAD. HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"  
  
She magicked Harry onto a stretcher and started to move him away.  
  
"NO, PLEASE! RON, MRS WEASLEY, HELP ME! MALFOY IS TRYING TO KILL ME!" 


End file.
